


Heaven Bent

by littlejaybird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:55:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlejaybird/pseuds/littlejaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is Sam’s new roommate and Dean has yet to meet him, and one morning, budding lawyer Sammy calls Dean in a panic. “I know it sounds stupid Dean, but can you just go over and check? Cas’ll literally kill me if I killed his cat.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Bent

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a little drabblet by dirtyovercoats on tumblr. I thought the dynamic she built was really endearing so I'm hoping to do it justice~  
> The summary and the beginning dialogue is her writing.

 

“I know it sounds stupid Dean, but can you just go over and check? Cas’ll literally  _kill_  me if I killed his cat.”

Dean’s a good brother so of course he goes, banging on the door a couple of times. It’s early enough that Dean imagines he’s probably waking Cas up too, but who knows, maybes his hours are as unfortunate as Sam’s and he’s already awake.

Not the case. When the door is answered, standing before Dean is the most murderous, tired looking person Dean thinks he’s ever seen. Hair bed-mussed and squinting frown soul piercing, Dean meets Cas for the first time in less than ideal circumstances.

"Um, I promise this isn’t a joke no matter how absurd it sounds, but Sam sent me over to check if your cat was in the fridge," Dean says, before Cas can smite him with his stare.

Cas says nothing, except looks down at the cat now curled around his feet.

"Oh," Dean says apologetically. "Guess that mystery’s solved then. I’m Dean, by the way." He sticks out his hand.

Cas just looks at it, unmoved, and then, instead of accepting Dean’s introduction, throws the door to his apartment open completely, growls, "I need coffee for this," and then stalks down the hall.

"Um, dude, you left your door open!" Dean calls after him.

A deep voice echoes down the hallway to Dean in reply. “That’s because you’re coming inside and making it for me.”

For a moment, Dean stares, bewildered, into the sparse apartment. _Is this guy for real?_

“I-- Seriously?” He remembers that it’s also Sam’s apartment, so he doesn’t feel too out of place as he finally finds his way to the kitchen. Cas is slumped in a stool at the kitchen island, head tilted sideways on his arms as he watches the source of this whole fiasco lazily paw at his hand from its perch on the counter.

“Mugs are by the sink,” Cas yawns.

“Right.” So this is actually happening. Dean busies himself with the coffee, the only sounds in the apartment the clinking of metal spoons against ceramic and the soft, even purring of Cas’s cat. “So, wait a sec,” Dean starts. “Sam asked me to come here to see if your cat was in the fridge.” He hadn’t even gotten the chance to demand an explanation from Sam this morning since his brother was in one of his frenzies about being late to work, but now Dean can’t help his curiosity.

“Mhm, it’s actually a pretty common occurrence,” Cas says, looking up at Dean without lifting his head. “See, he has this thing about desserts. He goes absolutely crazy for them. So, one day he figured out how to paw the fridge open and now he likes to sneak in there for food when we aren’t looking. The problem is he can’t get himself back out.”

It’s all said so casually that Dean can’t help but laugh. _Some roommate you got here, Sammy._

Cas doesn’t lift his head from the counter until Dean sets a mug of steaming coffee in front of him. “I tried to ask how you like it, but you went all comatose on me--” He’s cut off when Cas unceremoniously splutters and his mouthful of coffee mists all over the counter.

“That’s it,” Cas grumbles, pushing himself off the stool. He shoots a glare at Dean, “Stay,” before stalking off to the short hallway which Dean assumes leads to the bedrooms.

 

* * *

 

When Cas reemerges a few minutes later, he is clad in a pair of dark jeans and a flannel shirt, looking much less sleep-tousled but still grumpy and murderous. At the door, he reaches into a bowl on the end table for his keys, because of course Sam would have a _bowl_ for their keys, and continues out into the hallway, once again leaving the door wide open for Dean. “Well, are you coming or what?”

“Uh, where exactly?”

“You still owe me coffee and since you are apparently incapable of making it yourself, we’re going out for it.”

Dean wants to protest at the notion of being ordered around by a stranger all morning but Cas is staring at him with enough intensity to freeze Hell and the words die in Dean’s throat. And maybe shrivel up a little.

They make their way to Cas’s favorite coffee shop in a hazy silence, though Dean’s sociable nature requires him to try (but fail) to spark a conversation to fill the void. He gives up when all he gets are tired grunts.

The place is rather busy, considering the time of day, but Cas manages to score a small table tucked away in the corner while Dean pays for their coffee. He reaches for the paper cup before it’s even set on the table, taking his long-awaited sip.

Dean notices the change as soon as the cup is lowered from the other man’s lips. The aura of mugginess is gone, and even Cas’s eyes seem a little bit clearer (and a lot more blue, strikingly blue, actually) as he regards the man sitting across from him for what seems like the first time. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Dean swears the corner of Cas’s mouth twitches a little.

“So, uh, you good now? Ready to act like a normal human being with the rest of us?” Dean asks, finally starting to feel at ease with the situation.

Cas genuinely smiles this time, “Yes. Thank you. Let’s try this again, shall we?” He extends his hand across the table, “I’m Castiel. Or, Cas, I suppose.”

“Dean. Good to finally meet ya. I trust you’re making Sammy’s existence miserable for me in my absence?”

That earns a chuckle. “We get along quite well, I’m afraid.”

“Damn. Guess I’ll have to stop by more often then,” Dean says, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of his own drink.

“As long as it’s not at this ungodly hour again, I’m fine with it.” Cas tips his head back and finishes the last of his coffee. “So, what now?”

 

* * *

 

All they’ve done is wander aimlessly around the city for the past hour and a half, but Dean already knows this is the most fun he’s had in ages. He learns that Cas is a freelance painter and photographer, with a focus on nature. As they pass through the park and into a more heavily wooded area, Cas points out all sorts of different species of flowers and trees that Dean hadn’t even realized he had an interest in until he hears it flowing excitedly in Cas’s low, but gentle voice. When they round a corner near Singer Salvage Yard, Dean tells Cas about working there as a mechanic for a grumpy old drunk named Bobby, who is actually a dear friend of the Winchesters.

“You speak very fondly of him,” Cas smiles.

“He’s been like a father to me and Sam for as long as I can remember,” Dean replies, memories of weekends at Bobby’s floating through his mind. Bobby always tried to pretend they were an annoyance but in truth, he was more of a father to them than John had ever been. He even went out of his way against John to make sure they had at least somewhat of a normal childhood. He can recall many instances where Bobby had taken them out to a baseball game or to the park instead of the shooting lessons John insisted on. Then at night, as Dean lie awake in the spare bedroom at Bobby’s with Sam sleeping soundly beside him, he would listen for the unsteady footsteps that meant their father had finally come stumbling through the door. On those nights, Dean fell asleep listening to the muffled, less than sober arguments between Dad and Bobby downstairs. It was always the same. Bobby would try to convince Dad to give up the search, that he still had a family who needed him. That they were just boys, and he was taking their childhood away too fast. But Dad never heard him. Or didn’t want to.

“I’m guessing your father wasn’t around much? Sam gets…touchy whenever the subject comes up.”

“Yeah, well after our mom died, he just kind of lost it, you know? He never really got over what happened, just drank until he passed out, every goddamn night. Sometimes he’d be gone for days and we wouldn’t hear a word from him. And sometimes he had enough sense to drop us at Bobby’s first.” All the words he’d buried long ago were spilling out now, and Dean couldn’t understand why he was telling this to Cas of all people, the man he’d met just this morning. And yet when he pulled his gaze from the graveyard of rust-eaten metal, there was Cas with his too-blue eyes, staring at him as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

The next hour or so is spent on a bench under the shade of a towering oak tree, where Dean manages to ramble and choke out a story he hadn’t known he’d needed to tell. He talked about how their mom was murdered when he was four, about how he’d carried Sammy out of their burning house, and about how their dad became obsessed with finding the killer afterwards.

“That house that we left behind in Kansas, burning…it was the last real home we ever had.” Dad had dragged them all over the country, crashing in the cheapest motel they could find, and then packing up and moving on. “Actually, that’s not true,” Dean corrects, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a set of keys. “It wasn’t much, but we called it home.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s definitely _you_ ,” Cas acknowledges, circling the shiny, black 1967 Chevy Impala.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing, it’s beautiful! Let’s go for a ride,” Cas exclaims, quickly plopping himself in the passenger seat before Dean can respond.

“You- wait,” Dean stammers. He watches Cas give him an innocent look through the window before turning away to run his hands appreciatively along the interior. With a sigh, Dean drops down into the driver’s seat, shrugging it off as just Cas being Cas.

“So driver, where to?”

Dean turns the key in the ignition, reveling in the familiar roar of the engine. “You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

They pull up to a mostly empty diner that looks like it’s actually been there since the 50’s and Dean orders them two slices of cherry pie as they sink into a booth lined with cracked red leather.

The waitress smiles fondly at them as she sets the two heaping plates down. “We really drove all the way here for pie?” Cas asks, poking tentatively at his dessert.

“Hey. Don’t diss the pie,” Dean says, shoveling a generous amount onto his fork.

Cas rolls his eyes, “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He ventures a small bite and shudders at the sweetness.

“Dude, how can you not like pie? It’s like, the best thing ever created,” Dean says, around his mouthful of beloved pie. Cas pushes his plate with the remaining dessert towards Dean, who happily digs in. More for him anyway.

“Despite being brothers, I’m surprised at how different you two are,” Cas notes, gesturing to the way Dean is wolfing through his second slice.

“Sammy? He’s a freakin’ rabbit,” Dean says, pulling a napkin from the holder on the table. He sighs dramatically, “He just doesn’t enjoy the finer things in life.”

Cas’s laugh is a smooth, rich sound and Dean probably enjoys it more than he should. “Seriously, I let him borrow my car once and he douched it up with his MP-whatever holder.”

“Dean, it’s the 21st century, I think he’s justified in wanting to move up from cassette tapes.”

“But they’re _classic_.” Dean gestures with his fork, “And no one messes with Baby.”

Cas shakes his head at him but he’s smiling, which Dean takes as a good sign.

They linger in the diner, chatting amiably until Dean notices the change in lighting outside, indicating the sun has nearly set. “Hey, think we should get going?”

Cas seems as surprised by the lateness as Dean. “Yeah, sure.”

“You know, this is so not what I expected when I came by this morning. I’m glad, though.”

“Yes, I find you quite interesting actually.” Cas shrugs, “Despite what Sam has told me.”

“Wait, what? Come back here!” Dean exclaims, hurriedly tossing a few bills on the table before going after Cas, who is already halfway to the door. “What’d he say?!”

 

* * *

 

As they pull up to the curb in front of Cas and Sam’s apartment, Dean remembers,” Oh, hey, I think I left my phone on your table this morning. Mind if I come up?”

“Sure.”

The elevator is out of order so they take the two flights of stairs. At the top, Cas digs his keys out of his pocket and as they make their way towards the door at the end of the hall, they can hear muffled shouting coming from inside. Cas and Dean share a look before the former pushes the door open and, “Cas, I’m going to _kill_ him!”

Dean immediately seizes up because he knows that tone.

“I asked him to come by to check on the cat this morning and neither of you would answer your phones and I’ve--“ Sam abruptly cuts himself off as Cas moves further into the apartment to reveal Dean still standing in the hallway. “You.”

“Um, good to see ya, Sammy,” Dean laughs nervously. “I think I’ll just be going now.” Dean tries to make a break for it but Sam’s freakishly long legs allow him to cross the distance in two strides and he pulls Dean into the apartment by the front of his shirt.

“No you don’t.” Sam’s still in his lawyer suit and dress shoes so Dean assumes he just barely beat them here.

“Listen, Sam,” Dean starts, when Sam suddenly ceases fire.

“Hold on,” Sam glances back and forth between his brother and his roommate. “Did you two…go out together?”

“Well, you see,” Cas offers, “Dean did stop by this morning like you asked, but, uh…” He trails off.

“But Cas is like the walking dead in the morning so he made me get him coffee and then we kind of just…” Dean gestures noncommittally, letting Sam fill in the blanks.

“So, you guys were out on a date while I was at work freaking out all day because I thought I killed Cas’s cat and neither of you bothered to call me back?!”

“Woah, Sammy, don’t have an aneurysm,” Dean teases. “And it wasn’t a date,” he adds, noticing the way Cas seems almost flustered by the comment.

Sam heaves Exasperated Brother Sigh #134 and decides to let it go because Dean is always going to be Dean no matter what he says.

“Well, I’m gonna get going before Sam decides to murder me after all,” Dean announces, snatching his phone from Sam’s hand. “I’ll see you around, Cas.”

“It was nice meeting you,” says Cas.

Dean raises his hand in a sort of farewell gesture to both of them before pulling the door shut behind him. Making his way back down to the car, he flips his phone open to see that there are twelve missed calls from Sam and eight voice messages.

 

“Dean, where are you? Did you check on the cat?”

 

“Seriously, that cat could be getting frostbite in there. It’s happened before…” Sam’s voice gets more and more desperate with each message, which contributes greatly to Dean’s amusement.

 

“I’m not kidding, Dean. Cas _will_ murder me. Call me back.”

 

“He’ll chop me up into little pieces and feed them to the ghost of his vengeful cat. Call. Me. Back.” Dean has to grip the banister on his way down the stairs, throwing his head back in laughter.

 

“Cas isn’t picking up either. My life is on the line here, Dean. Dean!”

 


End file.
